be a family. I want us to live together.”
“Do you love her?”
“Doesn’t matter. She doesn’t need love. She said so the other night.”
“Let’s not worry about that right now. Do you love her?”
Maybe Ethan should have been shocked at how forward his father was, especially considering it had been more than a few years since they’d had such an intense conversation. But he wasn’t. It felt good to have someone to confide in. Rick had always been the guy he could say anything to. Confess anything to, and there’d been a time when Ethan had had his own share of confessing to do. His dad was right. He’d kept too much to himself for too long.
“I think I’ve always loved her,” Ethan said haltingly. “Every single woman I’ve ever been involved with didn’t measure up. None of them came close to Emily.”
“Okay, then, it’s good to know where your head is at.” Frank tossed his empty can into the firepit and cracked a smile. “One thing. When you finally say those words to Emily, the love words, promise me you’ll edit it a bit. Pretty sure no woman wants to hear think in the same sentence with love. Now”—he patted Ethan on the shoulder—“we should get on back to the house, because it’s damn near turkey time and we’re going to need some fuel for our legs if we’re going to beat the Jacobs clan at pond hockey.”
“We should throw Georgie in the net,” Ethan said, following his father back through the woods.
“That’s what I was thinking. Lord knows she’s no good to us anywhere else.” Frank Caldwell grinned over his shoulder. “Just don’t tell her I said that.”
Chapter Fifteen
A year ago, Emily had been alone on Thanksgiving. She’d spent the day in front of the television, watching The Notebook and Love Actually and any other sad or sappy movie she could find. She’d had chips and dip for breakfast and a grilled cheese and ham sandwich for dinner. Dessert? Double chocolate cookies with the kind of creamy center that stuck to fingers and hips.
It had been a marathon of food, wine, and movies that made her cry. She’d spent the entire day in pajamas and then the whole of Black Friday online shopping to her heart’s content, buying things she didn’t need and returning them days or weeks later.
By the time the long weekend was over, she was exhausted from not doing anything, and glad it was over.
Suffice to say, this year had been an entirely different animal.
Thursday had been wonderful and scary and sometimes awkward, but it had also been warm and genuine, and she would have gladly stayed at the Caldwells’ until midnight, listening to stories and watching them interact. There were several times when Emily had nearly burst into tears over the way Frank teased Simone or at the look on his face when he quietly watched his son when Ethan wasn’t looking. And her heart expanded at how Simone couldn’t pass by Ethan without squeezing his shoulder or kissing his cheek. They were so in love with their son. The worry they’d carried these past few years had been heavy. It seemed as if finally, they were unburdened.
Emily should know. She’d felt the same way. She’d worried about Ethan for so long that it had become second nature. But now she and Ethan were caught in some weird place that she had no idea how to navigate. A place she wasn’t exactly sure she ever could. Because as she watched him with his parents, as the slow smile that had ghosted his face for years reappeared, she realized how badly she wanted what they had. It was like a page being turned in book, one that led to the end of the story.
She wanted this family.
This warmth and love.
But most of all, she wanted Ethan to be the end of her story. She wanted to be in his life. In his home. In his bed. She wanted to be in his heart, in a separate spot that belonged to her and had nothing to do with the baby or Rick or any of the stuff from their past. She’d lied the other night, to herself and to Ethan. Or maybe she’d just woken up and realized something. She wanted more. She wanted Ethan in that big romantic kind of way, the one that was top heavy with love and bottom heavy with everlasting.
To put it simply, she wanted it all. And maybe she didn’t deserve